Fallout NewVegas: Requiem of the Captial Wasteland
by Ginyou Rinsom
Summary: An experiment gone awry in the Big Mountain Research facility causes a temporal distortion, displacing Courier Six into a foreign land far to the east. Can this land survive this particular brand of Vegas justice?
1. A tale of flashbacks and trips

_**Hello and welcome to the introductive chapter of Fallout New Vegas: Requiem for the Capital Wasteland, the story title is influenced (read; directly copied from) the mod of the same name, I hold no claim to the name and if need be I can change it. **_

_**I do not own any of the Fallout franchise, all rights reserved to Bethesda and Obsidian Entertainment.**_

_**Characters; Kaapro "Kane" Teuvo, Faye Roux others where indicated are created by me unless otherwise stated.**_

_**Fallout; A Requiem for the Capital Wasteland is a modification package owned by MasterYster of Newvegasnexus, I hold no rights to the title or anything pertaining the mod itself. **_

_**Pairings will be as such; Courier/Sarah Lyons, LoneWanderer/ Butch (possibly but not set in stone as of yet), with allusions to past Courier/Cass. **_

_***EDIT* I was alerted to some errors in the chapter and realized i uploaded the wrong copy, it has been replaced and the errors and inconsistencies have been rectified.  
><strong>_

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><p>Plain text – action<br>"Quotation text" – spoken word  
>'<em>Italicized text with apostrophes' <em>– Thinking or flashbacks**  
>Bold text – <strong>Important names or events.

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><p><em><strong>Beta read and corrected by – Irisu the Rabbit.<strong>_

_**Fact Checking and Information gathering by – Garaa of the Funk**_

_**Without further interruption let's begin the adventure. **_

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><p><em><strong>Chapter one – A tale of flashbacks and trips?<strong>_

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><p><em>An experiment gone awry in the Big Mountain Research facility causes a temporal distortion which displaces the Sink and its occupants in time and drops them eleven years and several thousand miles away into the Capital Wasteland where the former courier and Ghost of the Mojave helps etch out the legend of another and brings his own brand of Vegas justice to the evils of the east. <em>

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><p>The clicking of keys echoed throughout the inexplicably named home, The Sink, as graceful fingers dance quickly upon the keyboard of a refurbished RobCo Industries computer. The screen littered with the familiar glow of green text, detailed descriptions of another RobCo device fill the screen instructions on improvements and theories about the strange teleportation device that was given to him by the even stranger Think Tank.<p>

A sigh interrupts the keys melodic dance as the digits' owner lifts his hands up into the air and wearily stretches his aching arms; the satisfying pop of his joints fills him with a small sense of relief as he lowers his hands to his eyes and removes the stifling pair of glasses that adorn his face. Removing the offending spectacles and setting them beside the keyboard, he leans back slightly in his chair as he rubs his fatigued eyes.

"Why did I let Arcade talk me into wearing these ridiculous things?" The man mutters, glancing back down at the eyeglasses. With a grunt he flicks the frames and lets the chair return to its rightful place upon the steel floor. The sensation of blurriness swarms his vision, forcing him to blink and shake his head in a futile attempt to banish the offending problem from his head. A touch of vanity and pride prohibited the waster from accepting that his vision was fading as he grew older, but out of respect from his close friend he accepted the frames.

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><p><em><strong>Five years ago. One year after the Second Battle of Hoover Dam. Mormon's Fort.<strong>_

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><p>"<em>These are merely a slight corrective pair. You don't have to wear them all the time, but I'd like you to get used to wearing them while you are concentrating on something. It'll help I promise. "The blonde scientist explains holding out a pair of black rimmed glasses none too dissimilar from his own.<em>

"_Bah I have no need for such things; I am not __**that**__ old Arcade." The second man dismisses with a wave of his hand, having no intention of wearing the glasses._

_A mirthful chuckle escapes older man's lips as he pushes the frames backs towards his younger friend, who takes them with barely concealed contempt. Rolling the frames around in his hand he snorts shortly before slipping them onto his face._

"_Besides." With his hand on his chin, he examines the face of his friend as he adjusts his new frames, a smirk dances playfully on his lips. "They make you look really handsome."_

_With a start the man tears the glasses from his face and tosses them back towards Arcade, "Oh now I know I ain't wearing them!"_

_Arcade's loud guffawing fills the tent situated in the rear of the old Morman's Fort as his companion sputters in an undignified manner, asserting sternly that they do not make him look 'handsome', but his denial and the dusting of red on the man's cheeks only serves to amuse the scientist further. _

"_Oh relax, Kane, I am just teasing you. But I am serious, please start wearing them. We can't have our savior going blind, now can we?" _

_With a grunt Kane snatches the glasses from Arcade's outstretched hands and slips them back onto his face. Another playful smirk forms on Arcade's lips as Kane again attempts to adjust the spectacles._

"_I'm sure Cass would agree with me though."_

_Arcade's loud laughter drowns out the flustered sputtering before an irritated scream pierces the laughter._

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><p>A huff escapes Kane's lips as the recollected memory ends in his mind, Arcade, in all his brilliance, could act like a nagging woman when he wanted to, all for the good of his friends, but still. Another shake of his head cleared the memory from his mind and a light slap to his cheeks brought him back to his task. Casting his gaze back to his workstation, he eyed the objects lain out upon it.<p>

One RobCo Personal Information Processor 3000, more commonly known as a Pip-Boy 3000, cover removed and the internal parts exposed, check.

One matter transmitter ridiculously named the "Big Mountain Transportalponder!" No doubt by either Doctor Klein or Doctor Borous. They both tended to be overly dramatic and loud, which reminded him, he needed to get Klein's volume knob fixed. Or add a mute button; both were viable options at this point.

Kane's goal, to combine the two and allow for instantaneous travel to his base and the Mojave without having to carry around that odd device, but the complexity of both devices made his task that much more challenging. With Zero's extreme hatred for Robert House's inventions, Dala's obsession with her "Teddy Bears", and Klein and Borous's distracted nature that left him with only Doctor Eight and Doctor Mobius. The almost indecipherable acoustician was of little assistance though; his specialty of sound technology did nothing to advance past his problems, so that left him with Mobius. Despite his oddity, he remained the only semi-stable member of the Think Tank.

His left hand hovers in front of his face, its alabaster white skin a stark contrast to the rest of his deeply tanned body. He felt almost alien without the little computer resting familiarly on his arm. Despite its simplicity, it has saved his life so many times throughout the Mojave; the light illuminating even the darkest paths, the maps always making sure he was guided and so many other minor things that he had taken for granted, were all thanks to it.

A slight headache began to materialize as the stress of his endeavor began to make itself known, thankful for the fact he shut the Sink's numerous appliance personalities on standby for their constant bickering and uproarious natures would only serve to worsen his suffering. Pushing himself and by extension the chair he occupies away from the table he stands up and makes his way into the main room, a large circular display situated in the center glows lightly as he passes and enters the rooms opposite his work station. Entering his included nursery he stops and opens the fridge, browsing for a moment he snatches a bottle of water from within and kicks the door closed and proceed back into the main room.

Leaning against the nearby workbench, he cracks the bottle open and takes a long gulp from the contents, the chilled pure water refreshing his parched throat and easing his aching mind. His brief reprieve from work is interrupted by a stiff, overly-verbose and faintly British voice echoing from somewhere within the room.

"A most rapturous good morrow sir, perhaps sir would like to put sir's feet up, and I might serenade sir with the dulcet tones of a light opera to relax him?"

Alert to the active console his eyes drift to the lone pre-war clock he had scrounged from Dr. Eight's home, it indeed was the next day meaning he had worked throughout the night on his thesis. A groan escapes his lips as he rubs his temple, "No thank you Cin, I need to get back to work." He dismisses the automated personality with a wave of his hand and takes off for his work station.

"Very good, sir." The AP replies before returning to its numerous tasks, but its voice once again makes itself known. "Sir if I may interject, perhaps the sir should activate Light Switch 01's Smart Lights, according to the notes it is said to help brain processes."

The Sink Central Intelligence Unit's, shortened to CIN by its master, proclamation forces Kane to pause and glance down at the light switch directly next to him. After staring at the device a moment longer he sighs deeply and palms his face irritated at his own ignorance. With a flick of his finger, he presses a button underneath the primary on and off switch and all five rooms of the base are bathed in a calming green light.

"Thank you Cin that will be all." Kane comments before disappearing into his work station to continue.

"Of course sir." The automated response of the machine echoes slightly before the display dims and the personality returns to its many tasks.

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><p><em><strong>Several Hours Later.<strong>_

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><p>Soft snores permeate the Sink, its master face down on his worktable several screws buried under his cheek as a sliver of drool makes its appearance from his lips. After several more hours of no progress Kane succumbed to his body's call, his cheek resting upon the metal tabletop as sleep forced itself upon him. His previous headache and troubles gone as the sweet embrace of sleep comforts him, but even that is torn away from him as troubled memories of years past invade his dreams.<p>

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><p><em><strong>Six years ago, Hoover Dam. <strong>_

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><p><em>A loud whoosh accompanies the agonized screams of two Republic troopers as the fearsome Legate's massive blade cleaves them in two, sending the butchered bodies down the cliff. With a testament to his strength, the giant aptly named the Monster of the East imbeds his massive sword into the ground in front of him and stares down at the man before him, his rifle aimed squarely at him.<em>

"_And who are you to come before me... You bear the insignia of the Bear, yet you do not wear it as a soldier of the West wears it." His gravelly voice echoing from within his crafted mask. _

"_What, Caesar giving you orders from beyond the grave now?" Kane spits out keeping his eyes trained firmly on the butcher before him._

"_Caesar's will is the will of the Legion. And the West... all beneath the flag of the Great Bear exists to test the strength of the Legion. The West shall fall as the East fell, and all the tribes that stretch to the setting sun shall bear the mark of the Legion."_

"_Your atrocities end scum; I am here to halt the advance the Legion once and for all." A smirk graces the warrior's lips. "Nice mask; can't wait to make it a trophy for my wall." _

_A throaty growl emanates from the Legate's lips as he grips his massive blade tightly, "You will be crucified along all the other profligates, but if we must, at least fight me in an honorable combat."_

_Scoffing with a sneer, he tosses his rifle aside and draws the combat knife from his boot, "Honor, from the Legion? That's laughable but I will play your game if only to allow me to savor the feeling of your blood on my hands." _

_Arm bent and held level in front of his chest, he extends his free hand forward, knife pointed square for the man's heart._

_A grunt is Lanius's only response before the massive blade is ripped from the ground and sent careening towards Kane's head, intent on cutting it in half. However, the Courier expertly rolls away from the blade and once he regains his bearings, slashes his slender knife towards a gap in Lanius's orientate armor but is blocked swiftly with the massive blade. _

_A stalemate interrupts their fight as both push against each other's blade. Lanius's natural strength fending off against Kane's artificially augmented strength. The blades screech as they grind against one another. However, despite his augmented strength, the Courier begins to lose the battle and the massive blade of the east bears down on him. With practiced dexterity and nimble fingers, his free hand disappears from the knife and into his coat withdrawing the hidden machete from his belt and with a deft lunge attempts to drive that same blade across the masked visage of the Legion Commander._

_With practiced ease, he leans his head back to avoid the oncoming machete and, seeing an opening in the Waster's defenses, drives his spiked shoulder into the Courier's. The fiendish protrusion barely misses imbedding itself within his neck and instead opts to leave a deep gash across his shoulder, tearing the duster jacket and sending him sprawling to the ground. His lost knife is kicked from the perch by the approaching Lanius, an amused chuckle escaping the massive Legionary as he watches the profligate scramble back to his feet, machete held defensively in front of him. _

_The smirk that rarely graced his face is soon replaced with a sneer as he noticed the wound on his opponents shoulder slowly knit itself back together._

"_You keep yourself alive with that old world trash." _

_Instead of answering him the Courier tosses the blade to his dominate hand and lunges forward, intent on impaling the massive warrior but an armored gloved hand smashes against his helmet shattering the optics and rendering the protective gear into nothing more than junk. The force of the blow sends the smaller man to one knee, his vision swimming, trying to regain his sense. Lanius, on the other hand, doesn't allow for it. With practiced ease he brings his massive blade down upon the dazed Courier._

_The sound of the blade cutting through the air and an innate six sense alerts the Courier to his impending death. He attempts to roll backwards but his dazed state only allows him to escape death. The massive blade effortlessly cuts through the beaten helmet and down his face, etching in a shallow wound from scalp to jaw. Escaping further injury, he rolls back, propping himself up with his hands and knees; The ravaged remains of his helmet strewn in front of him as he palms his wounded face blood seeping down his arm._

_Pain floods Kane's body as the PHOENIX Monocyte Breeder implant does its best to save the damaged eye. The pain is so stifling that Kane doesn't notice the loud echoing footsteps of his opponent until he feels the cold metal of Lanius's blade rest under his chin and lift his gaze._

"_Pathetic, if this is the best that the Bear can offer then our victory will be swift and clean. You fight with the skill of a recruit and you will die like those who cannot measure up to Caesar's strength."_

_The cold feeling disappears as Kane begins accept his demise, images of his friends flash before his eyes; sharing a bottle of whiskey and slinging flirts back and forth with the sassy caravaneer, Spotting targets with the stoic NCR sniper, watching the flushed and elated face of the perky scribe as he hands her a dress, the sarcastic old ghoul endlessly tinkering away at anything, his faithful cybernetic hound wagging his tail happily as he travels with his master, watching the former Enclave scientist help a wounded waster. Each individual face flashes before him. _

_Lanius watched in a curious interest as many emotions flashed across his fallen opponent's face, whatever guilt once held this man's arm back had long since vanished as he tightened his grip on his sword intent on ending the pathetic profligate's life and securing the Legion's destined victory. _

"_We will take Hoover Dam and move forward until our feet crush the setting sun beneath them. You could not stand against what was destined to come." _

_However before the Legate can complete his work, a massive explosion rips through his camp as a stray packet of bombs from the explosive loving Boomer's jet land within, sending clumps of dirt and wood about. _

_Distracted by the attack the Legate doesn't notice his enemy regain his bearing and grip his machete until the blade breaks against his armor. The Courier's stab, while failing to kill the Legate did enough damage leaving a hole large enough to be a liability, reeling from the explosions and the sudden attack Lanius is unable to muster a defense in time. The cold barrel of the Courier's 12.7mm pistol pressed against the Legate's bare stomach, seconds lapse in silence before seven deafening cracks pierce the silence and seven bullets implode within his stomach and mushroom tearing his insides to shreds. _

_Blood erupts from his mask as his sword slips from his hands and imbeds itself into the dirt behind him, blood pools beneath him as he collapses to his knees, hand attempt to contain the gushing blood from his abdomen. His gaze spies the pistol that spelt his demise, a groan escapes his lips as raises his head but instead of his killer he finds nothing for behind him the Courier has snatched his sword and with a roar that would rival even the mightiest Yao gaui he arches the blade over his shoulder and down towards the kneeling man with all the strength_

_Blood erupts from his mask as his sword slips from his hands and imbeds itself into the dirt behind him. Blood pools beneath him as he collapses to his knees, hands attempting to contain the gushing blood from his abdomen. His gaze spies the pistol that spelt his demise, a groan escapes his lips as raises his head but instead of his killer he finds nothing. For behind him the Courier has snatched his sword and with a roar that would rival even the mightiest Yao gaui he arches the blade over his shoulder and down towards the kneeling man with all the strength his artificially augmented arms can muster._

'The roar of a bear…a fitting end…'

_The roar and the sound of the sword cleaving through the air are the symphony of the fallen Legion Legate's end as it tears through the armor, flesh and bone. The head slipping from the body and falling to the ground beside him, the body remained upright, blood spurting like a fountain from the exposed arteries coating Kane's face and hair in the thick, pungent fluid. __With a fierce boot to the now dead Legate's back hurling it down the cliff, his armor impacting the ground resonates the Legion second failure at the pre-war wonder. _

_A massive explosion rips through the gate to Legate Lanius's compound. Out of the smoke, four veteran rangers of the NCR rush out, flanking the doors and eyes scanning the surroundings with guns ready to neutralize any Legion who dares to tempt them. Once it is secure, they signal another figure beyond the smoke, a man dressed in formal drab uniform steps forward accompanied by another ranger. He surveys the scene before whistling;_

"_Damn, that kid is a beast, he left nothing ali-" _

_The harsh sound of armored boots alerts those present. Though they are at first alert and ready to intercept the foe, the sight of familiar black coat puts them all at ease. General Lee Oliver moves forward to congratulate their champion but stops abruptly when the massive sword of the Legate clatters to the ground in front of him and the severed head of their hated enemy is shoved roughly into his arms._

_The Courier's iron grip clamps down onto his shoulder; the General suppresses the urge to flinch, but when his wild emerald eyes bore into his own he could not help but shudder, face and hair soaked in blood only served to cement the Courier's terrifying gaze._

"_I have won your war, now it is your turn. Keep the peace or I will bring hell to you as I did to him." Kane rasps out, squeezing the generals shoulder tighter he pushes him away and disappears into the smoke, the gleaming helmet of the Legate the last thing they see._

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><p>With a start, Kane awakens from his slumber, the dreams of the past still fresh in his mind, the brutality of the war and the atrocities both sides had committed. No. Slapping his face, he forces those thoughts from his mind and rakes a hand through his brown bedraggled locks. The nap he took, while not the best sleep he's ever had, sufficed to quelch the creeping exhaustion and with a sigh he grabs the reassembled pip-boy from the table. His efforts fruitless and amounting to nothing more than exhaustion, the glove slips onto his hand neatly and covers the alabaster skin leaving naught a trace of untanned flesh exposed.<p>

With a few practiced movements, the arm-mounted device flairs to life without problem; The Courier sighs in relief as his trusted sidekick remains operational. With another deep sigh he leans back in his chair, which has been his bed many a long night, staring blankly at the intersecting beams as his fingers unconsciously tracing the long scar over his eye a glaring reminder to his vicious battle against the Monster of the East.

Forcing those memories aside he slips from his chair and into his bedroom, the overwhelming feeling of cabin fever beginning to creep into his mind, "Maybe I'll go visit Arcade and Veronica, see if they have any helpful ideas."

Below within the confines of the Think-Tank six floating brains resume their dubious experiments oblivious to the conflicts of the Mojave and world; a single brain floats away from the others watching over them as he had done for decades. Now, thanks to the friendly Courier, he could do so without worry.

Mobius's thoughts drifted to the problem that the Courier had inquired of him, a way to integrate the bulky teleportation gun into his wrist computer. It was quiet the conundrum as he has no prior knowledge of such a device, making his task quite difficult. But the aged floating brain understood why the intrepid warrior chose him over the other unique members of Big Mountain. Minutes further along he still could not deduce the proper method of integration, his mind unfocused and muddled by lack of 'inspiration'.

"Time for some of those science-arific chalky tablets of science!" The odd scientist mutters before floating off to find a stash of his Mentants.

A bright flash within the empty confines of the Mojave Drive-In, materializing out of the flash is a single figure clutched in his hand is a strange black, blue and orange device. The tall armed figure scans the horizon as he slips an odd device into his pouch and examines the device strapped to his wrist, _'that damn thing always disorients me, now which way was Route 95…'_

A second later, he traces the route on his Pip-Boy and closes the map screen. Instead of bulky power armor or conspicuous ranger armor, Kane instead opted for a simple set of leather armor. Service Rifle on his back, pistol at his side and combat knife in his boot, it was more than enough to tackle any threat that the Mojave Wastes can throw at him, now that the Legion was driven from the Mojave. Although the occasional assassin foolishly made his way into the area in a vain attempt to avenge the deaths of their leaders.

Pressing forward, he makes his way towards the charred ruins of Nipton. Since Vulpes Inculta massacred the townspeople and razed the two, no one has attempted to resettle it. The town, filled with nothing but whores, thieves and others of questionable morals, still didn't deserve its brutal fate. Their deaths were swiftly avenged though; Kane and Boone made sure of that. A small smirk appears on his face with a chuckle as he remembers his first encounter with the fearsome Legion.

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><p><em><strong>Six years ago. Nipton.<strong>_

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><p><em>Flanked by several legionaries and mongrels, a man wearing a wolf cap and sunglasses beckons Kane closer. Watching from Nipton's General Store is Boone, his rifle aimed directly at the stationary Legionaries, waiting for Kane to move to safety. <em>

"_Don't worry; I won't have you lashed to a cross like the rest of the degenerates. It's useful that you happened by. I want you to witness the fate of the town of Nipton, to memorize every detail. And then, when you move on? I want you to teach everyone you meet the lesson that Caesar's Legion taught here, especially any NCR troops you run across."_

_Eyeing the armed soldiers dressed in odd armor warily, "And what lesson did you teach here?"_

_Crossing his arms across his chest he thinks for a moment, "Where to begin? That they are weak, and we are strong? This much was known already. But the depths of their moral sickness, their dissolution? Nipton serves as the perfect object lesson."_

"_What exactly happened here?"_

"_Nipton was a wicked place, debased and corrupt. It served all the comers, so long as they paid. Profligate troops, Powder Gangers, men of the Legion such as myself - the people here didn't care. It was a town of whores. For a pittance, the town agreed to lead those it had sheltered into a trap. Only when I sprang it did they realize they were caught inside it, too."_

"_And you captured everyone?"_

"_Yes, and herded them to the center of town. I told them their sins, the foremost being disloyalty. I told them that when Legionaries are disloyal, some are punished, the others made to watch. And I announced the lottery. Each clutched his ticket, hoping it would set them free. Each did nothing, even when "loved ones" were dragged away to be killed."_

_Clenching his fists tightly and barely containing his urge to draw his 9mm pistol, "So you slaughtered innocent civilians?" Kane spits out through clenched teeth._

_Scoffing, "Innocent? Hardly. Cowardly, though. They outnumbered us, yet not once did they try to resist. They stood and watched as their fellows were butchered, crucified and burned, one by one. They stood and hoped their turn would not come. Each cared only for himself."_

_Pausing Vulpes waits for the man to answer but when naught but the crackling of fire answers him; "Then I bid you "Vale" – until we meet again."_

_Turning on his heel, Vulpes signals his Legionaries to move on; however they do not get more than a couple steps before the dissolute stranger regains his voice._

"_Your crimes are unforgivable!"_

_Before they can react, Kane's pistol is out of its holster and two shots ring out, two nine millimeter rounds explode the heads of two Legion Recruits before another succession of shots finish off the two remaining escorts, .308 rounds easily piercing the flesh and bone and showering Vulpes in gore. _

_His 9mm aimed directly between Vulpes's eyes, the two stare each other down; Kane trembling in rage and Vulpes staring impassively at the Profligate scum who dared to challenge the Legion's rule._

_A sudden growl distracts Kane as one of the Legion mongrels latches onto his forearm, sinking it's fangs in deeply causing the former Courier to curse and attempt to shake the hound off. When that fails he brings his pistol down harshly against the hound's skull, a sickening crack and a yelp signal the hounds demise and release from his profusely bleeding arm. A second growl immediately alerts him as the second mongrel leaps for his throat. _

_Wheeling his pistol around, he squeezes off three rounds in succession, the kick on the pistol arching it upwards, one impacting its shoulder, second its eye and the final fatal bullet hitting dead center, spilling more gore upon the pavement. Panting slightly and still trembling from the sudden excitement, his focus distracted, he forgets about his primary target until the menacing throaty grinding alerts him and, with a desperate move, blocks the incoming Ripper aimed for his head. _

_The miniature chainsaw digs into the metal gun showering both with sparks and bits of metal, a brief deadlock ensues before Kane lands a haymaker across Vulpes's face, sending both men sprawling to the ground weapons scattered. _

_The first to regain his composure, Kane doesn't let up his assault and backhands the fallen Frumentarii, leaping to his feet he drives a boot across the dazed Legionnaire. "You punish these people for their supposed sins! What of your own! You are nothing more than a cold blooded murderer!" He lands several more kicks across Vulpes's face, knocking the glasses and hound helmet from his head. _

_Grabbing the man by the scruff of his armor, Kane drags him towards a nearby curb, "People like you are exactly what is wrong with humanity!" _

_Without another word or sound, Kane pries the man's mouth open and places it upon the curb; a vicious kick of his foot drives the fallen Frumentarii's open mouth into the concrete. Teeth, blood and other unidentifiable parts of the man spew out, without pause Kane resumes his assault, grabbing his head and repeatedly slamming it into the bloodied curb. _

_He continues his frenzied assault until a hand grips his shoulder roughly. In his fury, he lashes out to remove the offending distraction, but the hand is caught simply by his companion. Staring down through sunglasses, his eyes meet the wild emerald eyes of his young spotter;_

"_Kid, it's over." _

_Boone's calm stoic voice pierces the righteous fury and Kane's tense body suddenly falls slack. He blankly stares at his blood soaked hands before eyeing the bloodied pulp that remains of the Desert Fox. Inhaling a shuddering breath he tries to speak but his mouth hangs limply open, nothing but incoherent squeaks emerge. A rough hand pulls him to his feet but Kane shoves him away, stumbling a few feet before toppling to his knees and retching louder. _

_Craig Boone, grizzled veteran of the NCR's bloody war with the Great Kahn's, could only watch as his companion fell apart in front of him, like many rookies before him after experiencing an up-close and barbarous kill. No man, no matter their boasting, is prepared mentally for such things; all Boone could do was to make sure the area was free of enemies and wait for him to regain his composure. _

* * *

><p>The memory of his first Legion battle flooding his mind, he found himself staring at the exact spot where he brutally beat Vulpes Inculta to death. The faint remains of the bloodstain linger still, the body long since removed either by the Legion or, more likely, the many carnivores that populate the wastes. Lingering for a moment longer, he sets off to the east towards Nevada highway 165 and eventually Novac.<p>

The trip along the highway was uneventful, as the gangs of raiders had been long since wiped out by the combined efforts of the NCR and Kane.

Dinky the T-Rex, the pre-war tourist trap that adorns the small town of Novac, it had been six years since he first set foot in the small community. Here, within the mouth of the massive reptile statue is where he first met the former NCR sniper and his mentor Craig Boone, and after assisting him in locating the party responsible for his wife's demise, they set off into the Mojave to find Kane's prey.

With a sigh, he pushes away the half-eaten Brahmin steak, his appetite disappearing from him and his thoughts lingering to his former mentor who, after the battle at Hoover, left to rejoin his old unit in California. The last he had heard he was still hunting down slavers, ridding the world of the horrors that they wrought. '_Well good for him_' thought Kane, though he was still haunted by what he had done at Bitter Springs. He now had a purpose to reconcile.

Laying a couple caps on the table, he exits the tent and back into the heat of the desert, the sun setting behind him, and his body casting a long shadow across the pavement. Continuing on he passes Novac's resident kook, No-bark Noonan, staring straight into the wall of the Dino Dee-Lite hotel, muttering incomprehensible nonsense.

As he made his way out of the town, he gave a lazy wave to Novac's lone defender high within Dinky's mouth, Manny Vargas, whether the sniper noticed was unimportant to the former courier.

His long solo-sojourn to New Vegas is interrupted by the appearance of a pair of heavily armored warriors, clad in old world powered infantry armor and toting energy weapons, making their way towards him. Stopping right in front of him, they examine him before lowering their weapons;

"Paladin Teuvo? Is that really you?" a cheerful but confused male voice, distorted by the helmet calls asks as he moves to remove his helmet.

Kane's face remains impassive as he examines the young features of the soldier before him, "Knight Stanton, it is good to see you and how are you Knight Watkins?"

"Oh how did you guess it was me?" Melissa Watkins's whines with a huff as she removes her helmet, her partner rolling his eyes at her childish behavior.

"It's been six years but you two are still paired together and most likely causing Elder McNamara trouble." Responds Kane before continuing down the cracked pavement, motioning the two to follow him.

The two Brotherhood knights share a chuckle before obliging, helmets tucked underneath their free arms. "Paladin Teuvo, where have you been these last two years? Hunting down more Legion bastards?" Knight Melissa Watkins queries, bedazzled by the Paladin's legend.

Silence reigns for a few moments before he responds, "No, I've just been….preoccupied. I am heading towards the Strip to ask the Followers for assistance in a task. And please, enough with the formalities just call me Kane. Everyone else does."

"Of course, Paladin Teuvo." both knights respond officially, leaving Kane to shake his head and sigh.

"What do you need help with Paladin Teuvo? Maybe we can help?"

"Unless you can help me with integrating a quantum field displacement apparatus into a wrist mounted terminal without compromising the apparatus's field integrity." He gives pause for a brief moment. When he is met with nothing but silence, he continues. "Then no, you can't, I appreciate the offer though."

Sharing a look, the two knights continue following the honorary brotherhood paladin as he makes his way towards a lone gas station in the distance.

The lone female Knight ponders quietly before perking up and closing the distance between them, "Well then maybe you'd allow us to travel with you until you reach Vegas? I mean, it can be dangerous in the wastes…Not that you can't take care of yourself! But even someone as strong and powerful as you can be hurt but-"

An armored hand muffles her ramblings, "Melissa that is enough, please for Steel's sake."

Kane's amused chuckles give the two young knights a start, they had never seen the Slayer of the Bull laugh and frankly to see someone of his legend act like a human was disconcerting.

"Well I won't turn down the offer of company. "

Night came quickly as the three made their way down the desolate highway; the only sound accompanying their excursion is the gentle footfalls of Kane's boots and the heavy thud of the two brotherhood knights that accompany the lone sniper.

The cracked and disheveled road did nothing to deter the motivated pace of the courier, his mind focused only on completing his task and moving onto another of the long list of tasks he had made for himself.

His quick and professional pace is interrupted when his boot impacts a discarded whiskey bottle, the idle distraction stirs up long old memories in Kane's mind forcing him to pause in his stride and stare down at the abandoned beverage, so engrossed on his focus he doesn't even notice the armored hand on his shoulder or the concerned voice of Knight Stanton.

Both the knights are confused by the sudden change in demeanor of the courier, despite their inquiries the only answer they receive from the catatonic courier is a single word barely above a whisper;

"…Cass."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Six years ago, Hoover Dam Barracks, night after the battle.<strong>_

* * *

><p><em>Cass survived to see the NCR flag flying proud over Hoover Dam, and thought for a moment... this is what a hero must feel like. She was about to tell the Courier not to get too proud of himself, then she figured he knew that already. So that night, Cass kicked in the door of his room to celebrate, bottles of whiskey in hand, however all thoughts of her celebration died upon what she saw. <em>

_The invincible slayer of the bull was laying there simply reading a book, not even the violent force of his bunkroom door slamming into the wall could shake him from his concentration. This was the same man she witnessed tear through countless Legionaries and various mutated creatures of the waste and to see him laying in a bunk reading like a normal person was baffling. A bandage wrapped around his head, coating the injured organ protectively, the single bare emerald eye scanning briskly across the pages of the magazine, Pugilism Illustrated. _

_Finally after what seemed to be an eternity of staring at him, the former courier finally notices his spunky companion;_

"_Is something wrong Cassidy?" a small smirk flashes across the mouth of the courier as he sits up._

_Cass continues to stare at the courier until she recognizes the barb and flashes her own smirk before kicking the door closed behind her and slowly sashays towards his bunk; "Quite full of yourself aren't you Kane?"_

"_Kinda hard not to be Cass, I am that great." _

_Rolling her eyes she shoves a bottle of whiskey into his hands and uncorks her own; "don't get too cocky there, mister hero." _

_Without another word, they both take a long swig of the alcohol and toast to a victory, leading to a long night of drinking._

_Several hours and more bottles of whiskey later, a thoroughly intoxicated Cass leans against a sober courier as she rambles on about several different subjects at once, all the while Kane listens contently._

"_I wass tahkinna to Bob and hesa all do it" Cass mutters half-lidded as her gaze lingers on the empty whiskey bottle secured tightly in her hand. The silence sobers the former caravaneer as she tears her eyes from the bottle and to her companion;_

"_Heey ya'll listenin too mee Kaney?" _

_Leaning back against the cool metal wall eyes closed contently he listens to Cass mumble endlessly, feigning interest every once in a while, taking a small swig from the same bottle of whiskey she had given him hours beforehand. Drinking was not exactly his favorite thing and he did it usually only at her insistence, but she enjoyed it and that was enough for him. A finger roughly poking his cheek interrupts his thoughts as the intoxicated caravaneer garners his attention, grabbing her hand he gently pulls her hand from his face as her incessant jabbing begins to irritate him._

"_Kaaaney, whys you no drinky?" _

"_Cass you know I don't drink much." He tries to reason with her but already knowing his reply falls upon her liquored up ears._

"_Buuut celebration!" _

_A soft chuckle as the childishness begins to worm it's way to the surface from the constant whiskey, but despite the intoxication she managers to surprise Kane with her quickness and in a blink of an eye she is soon straddling him, her face dangerously close to his own._

"_Oh-ho someone's face is red and I don't think it's from the whiskey~" she giggles as she presses her body closer towards him._

"_C-cass, what are you doing?" Kane stutters out a little shocked by the sudden change in her demeanor._

"_I told you, celebrating and if you won't drink, then we'll have to find another way to celebrate~" _

_Any attempt at protesting was quickly silenced by the rough and sloppy embrace of their lips. Though at first he was surprised at the sudden contact, his strength of will begins to crumble as her tongue expertly snakes itself around his. _

_The warm embrace almost completely engulfing his mind leading it to surrender to the primal lust but his conscious finally makes itself known along with a wave of regret and guilt. Pulling Cass off of his lap and back onto the bunk, he stumbles to his feet, his hand over his heart as he tries to process the recent events._

"_Ca-cass, what the hell?" He was confused by her actions, sure they had flirted before but Cass had explicitly made it clear that nothing could ever happen between the two of them, and to now have her throwing herself at him…_

"_W-why" _

_A soft squeaking sob interrupts him as a side of Cass he's never seen before begins to manifest, "Is-is it because I am not as wholesome as that vault girl or as sultry as that Red Lucy women bu-but" _

_The rest of her speech becomes incomprehensible mumbling and sobs leaving the former courier baffled by the sudden change in her demeanor. Never had he dealt with a distraught woman and, with no prior experience in the matter, he just did what he felt was natural._

_She was a mess, she didn't know what she was doing, whiskey was hell but it made things much more enjoyable then being sober did. Be that as it may, it did cause endless trouble but what the fuck, that's part of the fun of life; this, however, was not fun. Babbling like a pussy and trying to seduce Kane, she hoped to whatever fucking god was up in the clouds that she could explain all this to him when she sobered up, she didn't want him getting the wron-_

_Everything stopped when she felt herself wrapped in a warm tight embrace. Looking up she saw the soft emerald lone eye of her long time friend, and as soon as she felt his calloused but gentle hands stroke her disheveled hair she couldn't help but let the floodgates lose. _

_As Cass resumed crying and clung tightly to him, Kane could only attempt to comfort her and hope it would end soon, for he felt quite uncomfortable dealing with such a stark difference in Cass's normal sassy attitude._

_Hours had past; neither knew what time it was and neither seemed to care as they laid on the single bunker bed. Cass's tear long dried up, now resting peacefully upon Kane's tear-stained chest._

The last figments of the memory finally flushed from his mind he notices that dawn has begun to break over the hills and he wondered just how long he had been standing there deep in thought. Unknown to him though, while deep in thought, he unconsciously palmed the pendant he wore around his neck, his thumb carefully and meticulously caressing every groove and detail of the strange jewelry that adorned the battle-scarred courier.

"Oh? Are you finally awakened Paladin Teuvo?"

Quickly turning on his heel, his hand reaching for its sidearm he is suddenly confronted by the armored visage of the Brotherhood of Steel Knight Michael Stanton, hands up in a placating manner. Quickly noticing his mistake the courier relaxes, a hand massaging the bridge of his nose, "Fine Knight Stanton just, distracted."

Though both are excitedly curious at his strange behavior, they decide not to push and continue to follow him as he resumes his journey towards the jewel of the Mojave, the bright lights of the Lucky 38 visible from all corners of the wastelands.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Hours Later.<strong>_

* * *

><p>The rest of the trip was, to put it bluntly, very very boring. Frankly, even an attack from a deathclaw was preferable to this deafening silence that had enveloped the group. That was the thoughts of the young blonde Brotherhood Knight as she steadily followed the courier; she figured that being with the famed hero of the Mojave would be more exciting; battling Legionnaires, ghouls, super mutants, or at least the occasional raider. But there wasn't even a mole rat to shoot, and when Melissa Watkins got bored she got mischievous. She was about to play a trick on the courier when he stopped and turned his attention to the two Knights who accompanied him; "I thank you for the company but I believe this is where we part ways."<p>

Thoroughly confused, Melissa begins to question the courier before being elbowed by her partner then directed to the large colorful gate of Freeside. Shocked and embarrassed at how long she was distracted, she only manages to sheepishly chuckle before regaining her composure. Both Knights attain a rigid posture and salute the former courier turned Paladin, "It has been an honor to accompany you Paladin Teuvo!" both exclaim in a professional and stout utterance, much to the annoyance of Kane.

Deciding that any attempt at scolding the two for their obsessive need to address him formally would be an exercise of futility, he continued on towards the gate without another word leaving the two Knights to their own devices. They were capable, young warriors and could handle any threat in the wastes on their patrol of the highways, so bereft of another thought about them; he made his way through the large doors to Freeside.

Eventually after passing many thugs, rubble and dilapidated masses that populated the poor sections of the Strip, he reached the one chaste portion of the wanton debauchery that littered the stretch of Vegas.

Remaining close to the entrance and out of the way of the many hurrying faculty, he scans each one, attempting to locate his intended target. He is about to give up when the familiar sight of a spiked mohawk, the signature hairstyle of the leader of the Followers of Apocalypse Vegas branch, catches his eye. Brushing his way past another hurrying scientist, he closes the distance and calls out for the kind doctor.

"Miss Fawkes!"

Craning her head around to address the call, she tilts her head to the side at the sight of an unfamiliar face, that is until the man moves closer and she can take in his features; bedraggled auburn brown hair, scarred left eye, stern calculating emerald eyes…

"Oh, Kaapro!" she exclaims, grabbing his extended hand in greeting. "It's been too long since you've made an appearance. We were beginning to think you had up and vanished."

A snort of amusement is her response as the larger man scans the fort, an old habit ingrained in many of the warriors of the wastes; his gaze falls back on the doctor as he suddenly remembers her words.

"Please Miss Fawkes, you do not need to address me by my proper given name, Kane is fine."

"Only if you stop calling me Miss Fawkes." She battles back, moving a hand to her hip as she does her best to drive her point home, meeting the man's narrowed gaze.

"Fine, whatever." Was Kane's concession, deciding to end, what he considered, the childish game between the warrior and doctor. He got enough grief from the other two Followers he was close with.

Smiling at her minuscule victory, she elects to steer the conversation back its original point, "So what brings a legend such as you to our little slice of paradise?"

"I came to ask Arcade or Veronica a question pertaining to a problem I have been struggling with for weeks."

Nodding in understanding, she motions for him to accompany her as she makes her way out of the fort and into Freeside, "They are at the Lucky 38, studying more of Mr. House's technology, which by the way, I have to thank you again for allowing us access too. The discoveries in the first year alone have assisted us greatly."

"It wasn't a problem, I'd rather it be of some use than for it to be picked apart by salvagers or left to rot" he dismisses with a wave as he continues to follow her escort to the subway car that separated the two sections of Freeside.

"It has and the people can't ever repay you for your contribution."

With a nod, Kane continues on his way before her voice sounds again, "Oh and don't forget to visit Rex, you know how much he misses you!"

"I planned too, don't worry." He exclaimed before disappearing behind the folding doors and into the north end of Freeside.

After a brief but excitable visit with his cybernetic canine companion and his "wife" Roxie and their terrifying army of pups, he bid farewell to the King and the pups and pursued his primary goal.

Upon arriving at the Lucky 38, he is scanned by a single securitron guarding the entrance and allowed to proceed; inside the former casino he finds a veritable festival of activity. Objects lay strewn out on the casino tables and bar tops, being examined and dissembled by various men and women all whose focus is solely on their work and not of the newcomer.

A shrill gasp and squeal alerts the former courier but not soon enough as a bundle of white and brown appears and latches itself onto his torso in a tight hug.

"Kane!" the chipper voice of the brown and white blur as its grip tightens around the courier's torso.

A chuckle escapes his lips, "It is nice to see you too, Veronica" playfully patting the excitable scribes head as she pulls away.

Elated to see her long lost friend, she links arms with him and pulls him further into the crowded casino, despite his slight resistance to the idea. The former scribe would have nothing of it and forcibly draws him towards the elevator. After a short elevator ride, the two arrive at the presidential suite and into the recreation room, the scribe urging him into a chair before she drops down into one directly across from the former courier.

"So where have you been? We haven't heard so much as a peep from you in two years and then you just show up out of the blue without so much as a phone call? Rude!" Huffs out the former scribe childishly as she wags her finger at him disapprovingly.

"Well I-"However before he can barely begin to explain his reasons he is thoroughly cut off by Veronica frantically calling out for Arcade to come join them.

Arcade, who had just woken up from sleeping several hours after a long week of work, decided to grab a bite to eat before reviewing his notes. However, as he passed by the recreation room the voice of the ever-energetic voice of Veronica calls out to him. Removing his spectacles he rubs his weary eyes before moving to ascertain the meaning for Veronica's enthusiastic call; he hoped it wasn't for some inane reason. Like another fiasco involving Emily Ortal and a dress, he would never understand how or why it happened but it did and he had to intervene. Replacing his glasses and entering the recreation room he was about to question her when he notices a familiar face, one that the former Enclave Remnant had not seen in over two years.

"K-Kane? That really you?" The scientist queries in disbelief, the reappearance of cherished comrade was something that he could not have predicted. Rising from his chair Kane extends his hand to Arcade but is once again enveloped in a hug, though he stiffened at the sudden contact at first he patted the jovial scientist on the back before removing the blonde man from him.

"It is nice to see you too Arcade, the years have been kind to you it seems."

"They have but not as kind as I wanted them to be, still no man has swept this charming bachelor off his feet. Tis truly a tragedy worthy of the Romans."

Rolling his eyes at Arcade's obvious melodramatic take on his love life, Kane gestures for Arcade to take a seat alongside Veronica and, hopefully without another interruption, continues explaining to his two long time confidants the dilemma that has been vexing him for several weeks.

After several minutes of explaining the trio moved to a nearby table and had both items laid out upon it for all three to examine, and dispute their combined expertise they could not come up with a viable solution. With a groan, Arcade drops down into a chair and plucks the glasses off his face and, pulling a cloth out from the innumerable number of inside pockets his lab coat seemed to posses, diligently cleans them.

"I can honestly say I am stumped Kane. It would be one thing if we had several of the, Transportalponders to experiment with. But without dissecting it or at least having the blue prints, I'm not sure how you would accomplish such a feat."

Veronica, who held onto the strangely named device, continued to examine every inch of the equally strange device, utterly fascinated at its ability and construction. "Have you asked the people who gave it to you how it works?"

Scratching the stubble on his chin, he nods, slipping the pip-boy back onto his wrist, "Yeah but unfortunately they have no memory of its creation. Even if they did, I doubt they'd be willing to help they are a …unique bunch who become far too engrossed with whatever they decide to busy themselves with."

A silence overcomes the group as they still ponder a solution, seconds later Veronica's spirited voice dashes it away, "What about Raul? He is a genius with all things mechanical."

"I thought that as well, however I haven't heard anything from him other then the occasional rumor. Not since he took up his old Vaquero ways. He might've been able to help with the pip-boy but I think such advanced quantum theoretics would be out of the old ghouls grasp."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Several hours later.<strong>_

* * *

><p>Aside from his reunion with his companions, the entire trip to the Strip was a waste of time. So after delivering the transportalponderer to Dr. Mobius, he had a meal, washed the accumulated dust off his face and prepared to sleep away his burden, however this plan was halted by the blaring screech of the intercom and the aberrant voice of the ever strange Dr. Mobius;<p>

"Oh my, is this thing on? Maybe I should take it apart and fix this confounded thing, always breaking for no apparent reason. Oh me oh my…"

Kane rushed over to the communicator before Mobius tore it apart and forced him to repair another thing one of the Think Tanks had disassembled without thinking and refused to fix. "That won't be necessary doctor, what is it?"

"Oh! There you are, always running off and blowing things up and stealing my delicious Mentants, which reminds me I should see about restoring my supply of those science-arif-" the odd doctor's monologue is cut short when Kane pushes the talk button down, repressing the urge to groan at how short Mobius's attention span could be.

"Doctor, you called me for a reason?"

"Yes yes of course, I think I've finally figured out the solution to your lit-"

An eruptive boom and the shrieks of several Think Tanks prelude the massive tremor that rippled throughout the dome, knocking books and various other minor sundries off their arranged shelves. Kane himself barely kept his balance as the oscillations continued. Finally managing to regain his footing, he urgently fingered the intercom; "Doctor! Doctor, what the hell was that! Doctor Mobius are you still there?"

When Mobius fails to reply, Kane rushes down to the main command room, not knowing what he would be walking into once he arrived. Rushing into the main chamber he is greeted by the sight of a large swirling mass of blue energy, a cascade of white bolts of energy arcing haphazardly. Below the occurrence, lay the damaged bodies of the Think Tank. Banishing the orb from his mind, he darts forward to check on the disembodied scientists. In his fevered dash, he ceases to notice a spindle of energy arc off the dome ceiling and straight for courier, being drawn like a bee to nectar.

A sudden force latches onto his left arm causing him to pause midstride. Then, before he can even blink, an indescribable degree of pain floods through his arm instantaneously. His attempt to endure the agony fail completely as guttural howl of torment erupts from his lips. Though he put all of his strength into freeing his encapsulated arm, the attempt was in vain as the energy dug deeper into his arm. For a reason he still does not understand, his gaze turned to the mass of energy that has captured him, and for a brief second time seemed to stop as the once luminescent blue abruptly changes into a violent crimson. Without warning, it suddenly and violently exploded enveloping the former courier in the light, continuing further and further out until the entire dome and surrounding area fall under the advancing engulfing light.

The bright crimson light is visible throughout the surrounding area and even discernible as far away as the New Vegas strip but, just as suddenly as it appeared; it shot up into the sky with a violent burst. A devastating shockwave followed its disappearance, laying waste to the entire Big Mountain Research facility, and when the dust and debris settled, it was a sight was to behold. The massive dome which housed some of the wastes most brilliant pre-war scientists was now gone, a corrugated crater was all that remained, leaving many in the wastes to ponder what happened and to forever wonder where their hero had disappeared to as well. Many believed that the strange event that took place in 2288 was related to the Hero of Hoover Dam's disappearance but without any way to confirm it, the idea soon becomes nothing more than supposition. So, the story of Kaapro "Kane" Teuvo ends within the Mojave Desert.

However, though one legend had ended, another was beginning and the influence of Courier Six would have a telltale impact on its outcome…

* * *

><p><em><strong>Indeterminate amount of time later.<strong>_

* * *

><p>The crackle of arching electricity and the groan of stressed metal is what Kane awoke too, eyes still blinded from the light and the immense pain that wracked his body. Attempting to sit up only accomplished a violent spasm of hoarse coughs as the particles of metal and dirt flood his lungs. After several minutes, his vision finally cleared of the blots of random colors and despite the continuous throbbing that his whole body experienced in protest to his sudden moments, he managed to rise to his feet.<p>

Though the scene that greeted him made him wish he didn't wake, the dismembered corpses of the Think Tank strewn the command center, dirt and stone protruding from the ceiling and in mounds on the floor. He briefly wondered what caused such a horrific event then it suddenly came back to him and with several pained steps, he ventures closer to the bodies of the Think Tank. Their braincases broken and the gray matter strewn near them signified the end of six of the greatest minds the pre-war world had produced.

After making sure that the dome was in no danger of collapsing and administrating first aid on the more serious of the injuries he sustained, Kane set out to bury the remains of the Think Tank, not knowing what they wished he figured that they desired to be buried in the land they had lived for hundreds of years. Eventually, after clearing the rubble from the corridor and forcing the metal door open, he was assaulted by the blinding rays of the sun. Shielding his eyes from the offending light, he makes his way further outside only to be greeted, instead of the numerous pipes and concrete buildings of the Big MT facility, by a stark, barren brown foreign wasteland.

Although he would not find out for some time, the former courier of the Mojave Express had found himself within the desolate wastes of the pre-war capital.

The Mojave's own legend would find himself intertwined with another who follows a path non to dissimilar to his own and both would carve their names into the Capital Wasteland."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Whelp, twenty-one pages and just a smidge over ten thousand words later I have finally finished, though not completely happy with the way it turned out. Sadly most was written in the wee hours of the morn when my muse decided to make her presence known, and it's not fun working long shifts on only a few hours sleep. <strong>_

_**I got the sudden inspiration to write a Fallout story after reading both of commandocucumber's Fallout 3 stories; Modus Operandi and Aqua Vitae. A wonderfully authored series that makes me crave more and more each chapter, I highly suggest it to any Fallout fan. **_

_**Also special thanks to my acquaintances; AbatedDust, SonicBlue777, MisterT, CassieCakes, DiscardedAngel and Neko Rena Arai for their assistance in writing the story. **_

_**Next chapter won't be anywhere near as long and will detail Kane's meeting with the Lone Wanderer and his realization of where he ended up. **_

_**Until Chapter two of Fallout New Vegas: Requiem for the Capital Wasteland. **_

_**Meetings, rescues and, mole rats?**_

_**Hope you enjoyed it, feel free to leave a review praising or critiquing it, any questions or flames are always welcome.**_


	2. Meetings, rescues and, mole rats?

**Beep bop, Chapter 2. The wait is because of work, Mass Effect 3, laziness and general forgetting that I had to do it.**

**Once again, Beta'd by the lovely Rabbit, Irisu. Other than that, nothing else to say for now.**

**_Chapter Two; Meetings, Rescues and…Mole Rats?_**

* * *

><p>The steady tone of the electrocardiograph is the only noise in the deathly silent operating room; however, that silence swiftly becomes broken by the screams of a women and the high-pitched wailing. After a brief examination the man sign, a serene smile indiscernible from under his surgical mask, turning to the worn out women on the hospital bed;<p>

"It's a girl? A girl! We've got a daughter, Catherine! A beautiful, healthy baby girl!"

Though clearly exhausted from the long birthing she smiles happily, as she welcomes her daughter into the world, "Oh... Oh James... We did it... A daughter... Our beautiful daughter..."

Dr. James Roux welcomed his infant daughter with a wave as he strokes her face lovingly, nothing else in the world matter to him now.

"You've got a bright future ahead of you, sweetie. I'm sure of it... Look at you, look at you... Hi, there. I'm your daddy, sweetheart. Daddy. You're going to need a name, aren't you?"

Looking over at his wife the share a look before she nods, tears streaming from her eyes, the joy she felt at that moment is too much to bear and she can barely wait to hold her child in her arms.

"Your mother and I have been talking. What do you think about...Faye? That's a good name. Don't you think? Fits your perfectly."

"You're going to look a lot like your mother." James says as he pulls his newborn daughter from the table and raises her up higher so that his wife can see their beautiful child.

"See that Catherine."

"Ohhh... Beautiful... just like her daddy... ha ha ha..." Catherine manages to hoarse out, clearly having trouble remaining awake from the strenuous labor.

Setting his child back onto the table and wrapping her in a warm comfortable cloth, he continues to stare lovingly at his daughter, still in shock at how wonderful everything turned out to be.

"It's a big world out there honey, full of all sorts of people. What about you? What kind of person are you going to be?"

However, his bliss is soon interrupted by the escalating tone of the monitor and Catherine's distressed voice; "James? James... Something's... Something's..."

"Catherine? Catherine! She's in cardiac arrest! Start compressions! Get the baby out of here! Move, Move!" Urging his assistant to look after his child he tries urgently save his wife.

"One, one thousand. Two, one thousand... Come on!"

"Hang on, Catherine! Hang on…."

_XXXXXXXXXXXX_

_One year later._

_XXXXXXXXXXXX_

See that? It was your mother's favorite passage. It came from the Bible. Revelation 21:6

"I am the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of water of life freely."

_XXXXXXXXXXXXX_

_Nine Years Later._

_XXXXXXXXXXXXX_

"Happy birthday, honey! I can't believe you're already ten. I'm so proud of you." A broad smile adorns his face as he happily hugs his daughter. Who, although thoroughly embarrassed, returns it joyfully.

"If only your mother…."

_XXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

_Nine Years Later._

_XXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

Nothing prepared Faye for the desolate brown environment that greeted her as she exited the vault cave; while they had taught her about the war and its impact in class, not even Mr. Brotch's duteous teachings could ever prep her for the reality of it all. Everything had happened so fast, she couldn't even remember half of her escape from the vault it was all nothing but a blur. Flashes of gunfire and blood, then in a rush it hit her. She had killed Officer Mack.

She had killed Officer Steve Mack, her classmate Wally's brother.

Faye couldn't halt the vomit that spewed forth, the violent upheaval of her stomach driving her to the brown soil below. The horrid retching accompanied the painful emptying of her stomach as tears streamed down her cheeks onto the dry dirt, her sobbing echoing pitifully in the mouth of the cave. After what seemed like forever, she wiped the tears and vomit on the sleeve of the leather jacket, given to her by the same boy who always bullied both her and her best friend Amata.

'_No, no more crying. I have to find father.'_

Forcing the nausea and dizziness from her, she stands and makes her way away from the vault that had always been her home, in search of her missing parent. A single 10mm pistol and her vault suit all the boon she could gather in her frenzied escape, memories still filtering through her mind and upon reflection of one, the pistol in her hand felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds.

* * *

><p>"<em>I told you I don't know anything!" <em>

_Upon hearing the shouting of her long time friend Amata, Faye rushes forward towards the source however, the stern apathetic voice of her father, __Alphonse, brings her to a quick stop just short of the barred window of the Vault's security room. Careful not to make any noise, Faye inches towards the window and peeks inside. There sitting frightfully rigid on a desk chair is Amata, her father and the cruel Officer Mack staring down at her, Mack, holding a Police baton threateningly sneers in contempt at the girls refusal to cooperate. _

_Arms laced across his chest, Alphonse sighs briefly before catching himself and resuming his questions, "Be reasonable, Amata. Officer Mack may enjoy this, but I don't. Just tell us where to find your friend, so we can talk to her."_

_Amata however does not buy his attempts, "She's my friend, I was worried about her. What does she have to do with any of this anyway?"_

"_Probably nothing, which is why you need to tell us where she is, so we can talk to her and get this mess straightened out."_

_Silence is the Overseer's response. As his daughter doesn't meet his eyes, another sigh escapes his lips as he gives Officer Mack a level gaze, a frown marring his face as he now has to resort to more…persuasive methods. Mack's grin grows at the Overseer's approval, taking a deliberate step towards the girl he slaps the baton into his hand loudly, another deliberate action, all to frighten the girl enough to divulge the information they needed. _

"_Now now Amata, we won't hurt our little friend. All we want is some answers as to where the Doc disappeared off to."_

"_Go to hell!" _

_A snarl crosses Mack's lips as he raises the baton in the air to strike the Overseer's daughter, her father making no move to halt the angry Security Officer's actions. However, there is no need as the sudden whoosh of the door opening and booted feet thumping behind them halts the officer's strike. Standing there, 10mm pistol held outstretched is the object of their interrogation. _

"_Leave her alone you bastards!" screams the redheaded Vault citizen as she shakily aims the pistol at both the officer and the Overseer. _

_Noticing the girl's obvious fright and insecurity, the sadistic Officer steps towards her, a cruel sneer on his lips; "Or what little bitch? You going to run away like your pussy of a father?" A barking laugh erupts from his mouth as he increases his pace towards the girl; at the same time, Faye backpedaling away from the encroaching man. _

"_Stay back! I said stay back! O-or I'll shoot!"_

_A scoff is his response as he raises the baton over his head, surging forward intent on ending the standoff with a single blow; He, however, did not expect her to make good on her threat. Whether from fright or desperation, a loud crack deafens the room's occupants, Mack's shoulder jerks backward as the round strikes dead-on, sending his weapon out of his hand and clattering to the floor behind him. A stunned silence follows before the injured officer's enraged bellow shatters it, his uninjured arm lashing out towards her but a second shot rings out, striking the advancing man in the opposite shoulder, staggering the charge._

_A third and final shot strikes the bewildered security officer in the exposed temple, the small caliber bullet exploding out the opposite side in an erupting geyser of gore. His body collapsed lifelessly to the cold metal floor, a puddle of fluid forming beneath the corpse, the remaining occupants stare in an astonished silence at the corpse. Faye's shaking pistol never leaving the corpse as her mouth moves wordlessly, tears beginning to form in the corners of her eyes. She had just killed a man; It was in self-defense but that hardly mattered. She took a life._

_The first to recover, Amata doesn't spare her father or Officer Mack's body a second glance before she dashes out of the room, catching her friends arm then dragging her away from the scene and towards the Overseer's office. Alphonse did not even bother to stop them, his entire world was coming apart; everything he endeavored to perfection was for nothing. _

_That would change…._

* * *

><p>Tears threatened to spill from her eyes once more as the last portion of the horrific memory returns to her. With a fierce shake of her head the thought disappears. Hugging the gifted leather jacket closer to her body, she steps from the mouth of the vault cavern and into the blistering heat from the unforgiving sun. Despite the radiant heat, Faye felt cold. Numb. Slowly she made her way down the dusty incline and onto the shattered streets, strewn with burned out cars and various junk. She couldn't believe it, was the rest of the world like this? Why would her father want to leave the safety of the vault for this barren wasteland?<p>

Carefully moving around the vehicles, she tried desperately to ignore the scorched skeletons within them. She wanted to scream; this was a nightmare, simply a nightmare. She would wake up soon, and her father would be waiting for her in the living room; his bright paternal smile greeting her. She could continue her classes, have a job assigned to her, and maybe find a nice boy to settle down with. More tears again make themselves known in her eyes and despite her attempt to stay them as a sob of despair and anger hitches her breath.

The sound of laughter breaks her despair. Raising her head, she notices the three people in the distance, settled in the center of the "town" around a burning barrel. Swiftly rubbing her eyes on the jacket sleeve, Faye runs forward crying out for them, frantically waving her arm in the air. She had found someone in this disaster and maybe they knew where her father went!

'_They sure are dressed strangely though…does everyone out here not wear vault suits? Is that…a tire?'_

Startled by the sudden shout, the three men grab their weapons, ready to meet whatever fool tried to ambush them. Upon noticing the youthful face and blue vault suit, they lower their weapons. Each of them adopting a sinister smirk, as the young girl stopped in front of them their grins grew she was a fine specimen.

Faye was more exhausted then she thought; that brisk jog left her winded. A hand on her heart, she waited a moment, trying to soothe the burning in her chest. It didn't help that the outside air seemed to be so dusty; it made her gag when she tried to take a deep breath.

"P-please wait. Can you help me?"

"He-he, sure thing girly, we sure as shit can help'cha"

The three men circle the young women, as she beamed at them unaware of their depraved thoughts, _'Hopefully.' _Faye thought, _'Hopefully they can bring me to Father and we can go home!'_

"Thank you! I am so lost, do you know where my fa-"

Faye didn't even finish her sentence before the butt of the man's rifle strikes the back of her head, knocking her unconscious and into another's grimy hands.

"Sure girly, we'll help ya out good!"

Their depraved laughter is the last thing she heard before it all went black.

* * *

><p>A sudden hum and crackle echo throughout the empty space that was once the home of the Think Tank as power returns to the command room. Though once bustling with sounds and lights of various consoles and machines, only a scant few are active now, both to conserve what little power they could get from the backup generators and because there was no one else around to operate them leaving the powerful computers to stagnate.<p>

Lifting his head from beneath an access panel in the floor, Kane breathes a sigh of relief he was worried that the power within the base had been lost forever after being violently separated from the research facility's main power plant. Finishing up with the panel, he seals it up and leaps to his feet, his joints groaning in protest at his sudden movement. With a groan of his own, he rolls his neck vainly in attempt to fight off the oncoming ache. A brisk pace towards a console settled simply in the center, and with a prayer to whatever deity existed, he started the derelict console up. His prayer was answered as the screen flashes to life and is filled with green text as the computer boots back up allowing him access to the facility's systems.

Several hours and hundreds of checks later, Kane finally switches the console off and steps away from it, rubbing his eyes, trying to remove the green spots that danced annoyingly in his vision. Thankfully, the violent…event hadn't damaged any of the base's delicate internal components and most of the caved in portions of the base, such as to his armory and the stairs to his room, had been minor and could easily be cleared with a little time and effort. His initial excursion to the surface had revealed an interesting fact; whatever had happened had moved the massive structure and deposited it underground. Strangely, the only direct access to the base was conveniently hidden within a cave, much like the massive vaults that dotted the country. Though confused at this turn of events, he wasn't one to cast aside fortune. Whatever force had brought him to this land had seen fit to hide him away so that curious eyes wouldn't peek.

Clearing the hallways of the caved-in dirt took longer than he had anticipated. Perhaps it was due to the fact there was more debris than he had anticipated, or more than likely it was the lack of proper tools. Either way, he had finally finished the basic repairs to the structure and had finally restored the power to his home, allowing him to breathe a sigh of relief. While he still had a lot more work to finish, much of the more mundane and tedious tasks could be put off and finished at a later date without a hassle.

Wiping residual dust from his brow with a rag, he set down his shovel and made his way up the stairs that lead to his current home; while he could have use the elevator, he decided that it wasn't worth the strain on the fragile systems he had just spent hours bringing back online for such a trivial action. Despite the protest from his tired muscles, he finally made it up the many flights of steps to his command center and made a beeline to his refrigerator to grab a chilled bottle of fresh water. Various knickknacks and books littered the floor but again he filed that task away for later. He had far more pressing issues to deal with.

"CIN, status."

The large station in the middle of the Sink beeped in acknowledgement and stayed silent for a moment before the faintly British accent echoed from the surrounding speakers.

"All systems are running at normal capacities, Sir. Minor subsystems in the external security net are offline and I am unable to reactivate them. Sink automated personality subroutines are offline as well. Would you like me to reactivate them, sir?"

"No need, CIN, and I believe I know why the sensors are offline. Interface with any available satellites in orbit and give me a triangulation."

"At once, Sir." The virtual intelligence replied before falling silent onto its task while its master waited patiently for it.

Minutes seem to drag on as Kane paced back and forth, his bottle of water long since finished and set upon the workbench in the corner. His patience at the breaking point Kane was about to demand an update when CIN beat him to the punch.

"Sir, I have finished my analysis."

"And?"

"A moment, sir, pulling up the map now."

A topographical map replaced the gridded holographic map; slowly the cursor filters over the map before settling directly over the former capital of the pre-war nation.

Kane's eyes narrow and his brow furrows as he stares at the map in disbelief, "CIN, how is this possible? We….how?" his thoughts trail off at the mere implications of what had transpired. He was now two thousand miles away from the land he called home, from the people he called his family, CIN's sudden voice breaks him out his confusion as the monitor flickers back to the standard holographic map.

"I am unable to ascertain as to how, sir. However, the explosion detected earlier had deposited an excessive amount of temporal and tachyon particles throughout every section of the Sink."

Pushing himself from the station, Kane raked a hand through his hair, the sudden realization weighing down on him. Whatever had happened that night had thrown him and his base across the country and into the capital.

"That is not all, sir. I am a detecting the same pattern of temporal and tachyon particles flowing steadily from your pip-boy, sir."

Confused emerald eyes flicker down to the personal computer clasped to his wrist. In all the commotion, he had completely forgotten about it and only now did he notice that it had changed. A normal pip-boy 3000 had a dial for changing screens on the left side (an obvious design mistake, as unless done properly you would obscure the screen with your own arm), a scrolling tool for the map, and two buttons; one for the status menu and one for the data menu.

However, through Kane's own modifications, with the assistance of Doctor Henry and Arcade, he had integrated the complex nature of the prototype Mark II stealth boy into his pip-boy 3000. Though far from perfect or streamlined, it suited his purpose and the only noticeable difference in the device was the battery slot and the additional button on the dashboard. Now, a fourth button had appeared next to the mark. II's, a faint blue glow behind the semi clear button. With frightful shuddering intake of breath, he chanced a look and carefully removed the cover of the device. Inside the numerous wires and electronics had fused together, all centered on a glowing blue tube. A sudden and intense sense of danger quickly brought the wrist computer's casing back down with an audible click. He was unsure as to what the hell that thing inside the device was and he had no intention of finding out.

His inquiries usually ended in violence and explosions and having one strapped to his wrist did not inspire him of the chance. The idea of removing the device from his wrist is shot down almost as fast as it came, as he doubted he could survive well in the foreign landscape without it.

The electronic voice of his central computer shakes him from his thoughts; "Sir? Is everything alright?"

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he waves the concern off, "Fine, what's our exact location within the capital?"

"Processing…we are approximately 1.4 miles south-east of the pre-war Springvale. Grid section Nine by Eleven on the current overlain map Sir."

Kane stared at the map for several moments, a multitude of thoughts coursing through his mind; why was he here? How did he get here? Was there any way back? With a final defeated sigh, he banishes those thoughts from his mind and focuses on his current expedition.

"CIN, upload the latest map my pip-boy and continue to work on any internal problems. I think it's time I explore this area and maybe see if I can find some non-hostiles and gather some information. "

The Sink Central Intelligence Unit beeps in confirmation before returning to its assigned tasks as its master descends from the main room and into his armory. The Sink's intelligence network briefly worried about its master's safety but quickly returned to its task. The master was a seasoned warrior and could handle any threat that this new wasteland threw at him. Not many in this time could claim to deeds that the former courier had in his brief seven years as the Mojave's defender; however, this line of processing was unproductive and oddly conflicted with its programming. Once again deciding it was best to return to its work it filed that tidbit of strange thinking away for later.

Sequestered from the rest of the advanced technological wonders that littered the Big Mountain Research facility was a simple room, formerly a storage space, now lined with freestanding shelves. On each of the aligned shelves to the left rest weapons of varying types, at least ten copies of weapons known within the Mojave wasteland and several that were foreign. From the simplest kitchen knife to the bulky Gatling gun he had gathered during his travels and stockpiled for reasons that only he knew, they now lay silent, unused. Waiting for the day they would be called back into action. To the left, more shelved various pieces of armor lay folded and in pristine condition; several suits of basic leather armor lay next to pieces of complex power armor.

Although the storeroom had several overhead lights, the only source of light in the dark room rest over a simple worktable. A mixture of parts litter the table and countless tools lay scattered beside them. Sitting at that table was a figure strapping a piece of armor to his right forearm. Sealing the final clasp in its place, he flexes and extends his arm, finding the arm piece comfortably set. He rises to his feet, letting the assembled coat and armor settle properly. He futilely smoothed the wrinkles on his sleeve, the battered and worn armor he acquired in the tumultuous Divide served him well. Although far from the most inconspicuous clothing he owned, it served its purpose in defense and intimidation needed for the riot officers who wore it. The armor resting upon his shoulder clanked slightly as Kane rolled an offending ache from his shoulder. It had been some time since he donned the armor pilfered from the NCR officer in the crumbled building but it had protected him faithfully for years since that event so he dared not chance the foreign landscape without it.

Stepping away from the table, he reached into the open locker, pulling the familiar sight of his unique marksman carbine, the distinctive woodland camouflage ill-suited to the bleak brown landscape of the wasteland. Pulling the bolt back, he briefly inspects the chamber before letting it snap back into place. Despite his daily ritual of disassembling, cleaning and reassembling his equipment, Kane was still paranoid about their performance. In a world where a defective weapon meant death daily engrained the former courier with a need to keep them in top form, setting the carbine gently on the worktable he slid a pistol from its designated peg in the locker and followed his compulsive disorder. The sidearm's unique appearance set itself apart from the others; stylized snake-skin grip and strange etchings on the slide, the weapon's previous owner had once explained to him their meaning but he had long since forgotten. Slipping the customized pistol into his thigh holster, he continued his arming; a well-worn bowie knife slid carefully into his armored boot, a machete slid into its familiar place at his hip, a number of clips hidden in the pouches of his bandolier, and several grenades of various types hidden throughout his person.

To a normal person, the amount of ordnance he carried seemed excessive but his ventures through the Mojave taught him that a person never be under-prepared. Clasping his medical pouch to his waist he allowed the flap of his jacket conceal it from view. It seemed strange that he needed to carry them; his implants healed his wounds almost instantaneously, replacing any need for the pre-war medicines. His reasoning was it never hurt to bring along a few stimpacks and med-x in case of emergency. Maybe it was Arcade's nagging subconsciously forcing him to take medicine. If he didn't know any better he swore that the scientist nagged deliberately to program him. A scoff and shake of his head cleared that silly thought. His pack also included a healthy number of lock picks and the same trusted screwdriver given to him by the man who saved his life, Doc Mitchell. A few other random pieces of equipment made its way onto his person, sequestered in various hidden pockets lining the armored coat or on his belt.

A final piece of equipment remained; a heavy rifle that he purchased years ago from the Gun Runners. Though it had little practical use in most situations, it never hurt to have a bit of shock and awe. The heavy caliber rifle had been modified over time; a custom bolt mechanism for faster firing, replacement of the original parts and stock with lighter weight carbon fiber ones. Loaded with fifty caliber hand crafted rounds, one shot from this weapon had more than enough punch to pierce even the heaviest power armor.

Collapsing the bulky weapon into pieces, he secures it to his back. It would cost him a precious few seconds to resemble the rifle back into firing order but the alternative of having the long weapon clanging against his back overrode the delay. Adjusting the straps attached to his Carbine and after making sure it is properly fitted, Kane allows the unique gun to dangle off his shoulder. Finally, he was ready to venture out into the new environment and more than ready to meet any threat; he had taken everything the Mojave had thrown at him and more. From simple raiders, to mutated animals, to super mutants, hell, he had taken down an entire slaver nation almost single-handedly. What could the Capital throw at him that the Mojave hadn't?

After several checks and even more rechecks, he finally arrived at the only current exit from his home and as before, the blistering rays of the unforgiving sun greeted him. Thankfully, the tinted ruby-red lens blocked most of them and spared him from being blinded; shouldering his carbine, he scans the horizon, eyes scrutinizing every detail in the brown landscape. When no battle cry of a band of Legion soldiers, or mocking raiders came, his posture relaxed slightly, hoping that this wasteland wasn't as violent as his last one. The pre-war township of Springvale would be his first destination. Hopefully, someone friendly inhabited it, and they could give him some sort of information.

He swiftly covered the distance between his cavern and the town without incident. He almost hoped for a random Deathclaw nest to appear just to break up the monotonous gait but to no avail. Although it looked as if someone heard his silent prayers as a familiar, whooping laughter fills his ears. Raiders. It seemed that no matter where the demented ruffians inhabited, they all had similar goals and strangely enough, almost sounded alike. Increasing his pace, he comes upon a small hill overlooking the town. Dropping close to the dirt, Kane carefully crawls forward. A pair of binoculars made their way to his hands as he reaches the top, scanning the town he finds the owners of the voices. Three dirty men, all clad in ramshackle armor and equipped with poorly maintained firearms. However, what truly interested the former courier was the blue, black, and yellow clad figure slung over the lead raider's shoulder.

He swore that the figure's outfit was something he had seen before, _'Wait, blue and yellow clothes? A vault dweller? What the hell are they doing out here?' _Ceasing his ponders he watches as they disappear into the nearby school and out of sight. Pushing himself from the dirt, he quickly gives pursuit; it seemed that it didn't take him long to become embroiled in conflict but he supposed it was inevitable. Cass always called him Mr. Hero and damned if he failed to live up to the Caravaneer's nickname.

Pressing his back against the schools brick wall, he slowly crept towards the gaping hole that overlooked a river, the nearby overpass collapsed into the murky water. With practiced footsteps, he padded through the rubble; barely a sound emanated from his heavy boots. Though he had passed a set of locked double doors that most likely lead straight into the heart of the school Kane decided he wasn't in the mood to engage whatever force the Raiders had gathered within the pre-war school. Another round of laughter halted his advance. Giving his weapon a once over, he made his way around the corner; peering over the rubble, he spies several raiders lounging, most smoking or drinking away the day. None of the assembled group was armed and seemed to completely unaware of any danger.

'_Perfect, for once these bastards will be jumped on.' _

And Kane waited, he could just jump from cover and swiftly execute the gathered Raiders with several well-placed shots, but he risked alerting the Raiders inside and possible have the vault dweller summarily executed as well. Though he didn't have the luxury of time either, the longer he waited the less time he had to rescue the kid before the Raiders killed him, or worse. He had witnessed many of the atrocities the chem-raddled outlaws had committed to innocent wasters.

'_Hurry up and disperse you bastards…there we go.'_

A single raider walked away from the group, his fellows sneering and jeering at him as he walked away, his response was simply to raise his finger, which seemed to accomplish nothing more than to increase their amusement.

Only once he was far enough away from the group did Kane finally break from his cover and, with expert ease, melted into the shadows.

* * *

><p>"Fucking pricks, I oughta gut the bastards." A sigh of relief escapes the raider's lips as he relieves himself out the ruined window. All that booze finally ran through him and nothing felt quite as good as a good piss. Finishing, he zips his pants up, wiping his dirty hands on his soiled pants; currently content, he thinks nothing of the voice calling from behind him.<p>

"All done?"

"Yeah, all fucking done…"

"…Good."

His contentedness disappears in a flash as a gloved hand clamps over his mouth with enough force to chip his stained teeth. His struggles are non-existent as the cold bite of a knife on the back of his throat and then a sharp pain. Suddenly he couldn't breathe. Not because of the hand that was on his mouth, but something the knife had done. His vision was fading; he didn't want to die life was so perfect it…

Kane dragged the now limp raider into a dark corner and deposited the body none too gently. A quick swipe of his blade against the soiled raider's pants and the knife was clean, so to speak, but better it smeared with whatever stained to outlaws pants then leaving a trail of blood.

'_One down, two to go.'_

Melting back into the shadows, Kane moved swiftly towards the two remaining raiders. It would be child's-play to kill them in their drunk and chem- induced haze, he mused. More than likely, he could simply walk up to them, wave and shoot them one of them head and his fellow would giggle then pass out; An amusing plan but not what he wanted. Spying a ledge overlooking their meeting place, he slipped through the shadows to finish the two unsuspecting raiders.

Another hit off his Jet inhaler, and still none of pleasing drug came out. With a growl of rage, the offending canister flies through the air and lands with a hollow thud on top of a pile of empty bottles. "Useless fucking shit."

"Quit chur bitching."

"Fuck off shit-stain."

A retort forms on his lips but is lost when a brown and green object lands heavily between them. What the hell had just happened? What the fuck had just landed in their base? It kinda looked like a-

Was as far as the raider's thoughts got before a shoulder planted itself into his chest and, with what seemed like the force of a super mutant, threw the hapless raider back against the crumbling wall. A sudden and sharp pain erupting from his chest as a corrugated piece of rebar juts menacingly from his bare flesh. The pain was so paralyzing that it took all his strength not to pass out right then. Looking up through lidded eyes, he watches as his fellow raider is executed with a swift machete slash to the neck. His outlaw brother pawing futilely at the gaping spurting wound in his flesh, the man's attacker stares impassively at his latest kill before booting the corpse off the landing, it struck the ground below with a wet thud.

Vision fading from the pain and blood loss, the echoing footsteps starting him every so often, until a rough force bends the rusted spear against his chest. Forcing his eyes open, he comes face to face with a masked visage, crimson red eyes shining deviously into his own. Fear unlike anything he has ever experienced urged him to run, but the rusted piece of steel piercing his flesh holds him firmly in place. The figure's deep echoing voice draws his attention as a rough hand grips his shoulder; "I will ask you once, where is the prisoner that your fellows brought in recently."

Although it pained him to breath let alone speak, he managed to spit out a few barbed words, followed by a glob of blood-tinted spit. "F-fuck off you cocksucker."

A moment passes in silence, as the figure seems to ponder the raider's words before an echoing sigh emanates from behind the mask, "Very well."

The hand on his shoulder tightens as the other latches onto his throat, the pressure of the grip as tight as that an anaconda's coils chokes off his air. Already weak from pain, the raider tries to pry the offending appendage from his body. A sudden quick jerk of the stranger's wrist ends the struggle with a muted crack, the raider falling limp shortly after.

Not sparing the fiend another glance, Kane proceeds to the door leading inside. Pressing his helmet against the door, he awaits the sounds of rushing feet or shouting. When nothing comes, he concludes his infiltration remained discrete.

Carbine once again planted firmly against his shoulder, he slowly opens one of the double doors leading to the interior of the former school, hinges grinding nosily against the rusted metal hinge pins. The door, open just enough for his large frame to squeeze through is just as slowly closed shut. A prayer of hope that none of the group had heard the damned doors groans; again, at the deafening silence he continues his advance. Unfamiliar dark hallways greet him; discarded books, cans, and skeletons litter the dank halls. A careful but quickened pace attempts to evade the amassed junk. Reaching up he flicks a small switch on the amassed optics on his helmet and a brief whine pierces the silence as his vision lights up in a red tint. The Riot Gear's optics flooding the darkness with red, allowing him a slightly better view of the hallway, his vision now improved allowed his advancement.

Kane however did not get far. As he passed several doors, one directly behind him burst open and out stepped a female raider scratching her tangled, greasy hair. Their gazes lock with one another briefly before her scream echoes and she reaches for the pistol on her hip.

"Who the fuck are you!"

The butt of Kane's carbine bites into her cheek as he lashes out to silence her before she attracted more attention; the tangled melee continues for a brief moment before the cold barrel of his carbine touched her chin. A slight depression of the trigger later and the wall behind her became a mural of gore; the stained and dilapidated wall painted with blood, bone, and brain matter. No sooner had her body collapsed to the ground did Kane hear the curses and yells of the remaining raiders. A curse of his own forms on his lips as he slips into a nearby classroom. A volley of bullets tears apart the wall he occupied not a second later as a group of raiders unloaded a seemingly endless stream of lead.

'_Fuck, so much for stealth.'_

The raiders jeer and call out for him as they reload and resume their volley. Not a second later does the camouflaged rifle peek out from behind the door and a single round screeches out. The ballistic obliterates the eye of furthest raider, dropping him in a shower of gore. The sudden death of one of their members stuns the group only for their assault to resume with earnest. Their aim was atrocious but accuracy was unimportant when you had overwhelming firepower, and that was generally the tactic these raider bands relied heavily upon, surprise and overwhelming force.

A frontal assault could kill him in this situation so a more, amusing plan came to mind. Spying an exit opposite his own, he bolts out through the other side of the room and makes his way around the group. The sound of his heavy footfalls and clinking equipment is stifled by the loud belching gunfire. A simple button press later and his body is enveloped in a field of refracted light, obscuring his form.

Slipping a small pineapple shaped object from his belt he tears the pin from it and holding the small lever against the device, he creeps from hiding towards the howling group.

The remaining raiders still unleashing a torrent of bullets never noticed a slight shimmer behind them as Kane slipped the live grenade into the grouped raider's belt. Slipping away as swiftly as he arrived he watched as the small weapon exploded with massive force, reducing group to ground meat. An unlucky raider survived, howling in pain and clutching the charred stump that was once his leg. His agony is ended by a shot between the eyes. Another curse forms on his lips, he had wasted too much time on these fools. Hopefully, they were more focused on him and not the innocent vault dweller.

"The fuck is going on out there!"

Jojo, the leader of the Springvale raider band was currently fuming. The day had started nicely; his men had brought a fine piece of fresh ass. If the suit was any indication, she was from that vault. Virgin pussy was always the best and after he had fucked her to his heart's content, he might let the shit stains that followed him have a piece. Now some asshole was shooting his base up and if the explosion was any indication, was killing his minions. Whoever was responsible was fucking dead and his guts would be strewn from here to Megaton!

Gripping his sawed-off shotgun tightly, he waited for the asshole to burst through the door so he could blast a hole into them. Probably some heroic asshole or maybe that prick, Simms; oh how he'd love to get revenge on that prick. The groaning screech of his door ripped him from his daydream and before it had even opened more than a crack twin shells erupted from the shortened barrel and tore the wooden structure to kindle. Jojo guffaws as he plucks the spent, smoking cartridges, letting them carelessly drop to the floor. So certain that whatever threat there was had been summarily dealt with, he tossed the spent weapon to the mattress behind him. Now he could finally ravage that red headed vault bitch.

That plan meets a premature end as twin shots ring out and strike the raider leader in the knees, sending him crumpling to the ground. Clutching his wounded appendages, he scrambles for something to fight with but when a heavy boot stomps on his back, he can only wriggle in desperation.

Kane examines the prone form resting on the soiled mattress not too far from the door, ignoring the writhing piece of trash beneath him. The figure seemed unharmed but he could scarcely tell from this distance. Finally glancing down, he tried his luck initiating a dialogue with the outlaws; "Is the vault dweller harmed?"

"FUCK YOU SHIT STAIN!"

Kane responded simply by spilling the raider leader's grey matter with a shot. Strolling towards the mattress that the vault dweller resided and kneeling next to the mattress, he rolled the prone body over. He was surprised to find it was a girl, a vault girl. Reminded him of Sarah, the owner of the Vault Hotel back in Vegas, a nice girl who eagerly accepted any vault tech he scavenged for a handful of caps, though he received a much better reward after bringing her a wardrobe full of vault suits. Forcing the old memories out of his mind he put his fingers to her throat, a steady beat reverberates through his glove, a sigh of relief escapes his lips the young girl seemed for the most part uninjured. Securing his carbine to his shoulder, he slipped his arms beneath her back and legs, hefting her to his chest. She was surprisingly light compared to some of the other females he knew; death awaited him surely, if he dared to voice that particular knowledge aloud.

* * *

><p>Her head throbbed worse than the time she snuck a bottle of Mrs. DeLoria's vodka. Faye couldn't remember what happened; it was nothing more than a big blur. Something brown, something white, oh her head throbbed more when she tried. Despite her eyelids feeling as if they were made of lead, she finally forced them to flutter open; a fiery orange sky greeted her and there was a soft lapping wind on her cheek. A groan fumbles from her lips, <em>'outside? I am…outside?" <em>it all suddenly came back to her. Her father, the vault, and those men. They had attacked her and, No, she had to find her father!

Bolting upright from her makeshift cot, she tries to move but a sudden wave of fresh pain paralyzes her attempts. In spite of the pain, the sound of a sudden deep voice at her side caused her to start fearfully, "Oh, have you finally awoken?"

Memories of previous incident flood her mind; Faye scrambles back away from the approaching armored man, crawling over broken beams and concrete.

"S-stay away from me!"

A bewildered Kane halts his advance and raises his arms in a placating manner. He removed his helmet and set it upon the ground nearby, allowing the frightened girl full view of his features. "Hey now, I am not going to hurt you kiddo."

Slowly, he extended his hand towards the terrified child. "My name is Kane; I saved you from those Raiders. Are you alright?"

Faye stares at the hand as if it were a monster, still weary since her violent first greeting by those strangely dressed men. Glancing up she gazed into the armored man's eyes, though his face held scars she could somehow tell he meant her no harm; his bright emerald eyes were so pretty!

"F-faye, Faye Roux." Grasping his extended hand, he pulled her onto unsteady legs.

"Kaapro Teuvo, but you can just call me Kane. Everyone else does."

Assisting her to the safe he had been using as a stool, he unscrewed the lid off his canteen and handed it to Faye. He watched in amusement as she greedily imbibed the liquid. After downing half the canteen's contents, she sighs loudly in relief, handing the container back to her savior. Allowing the pleasing sensation to settle in her stomach, she stretches her arms with a grunt. All the while Kane continues to watch her, still amused at her behavior.

Deciding to break the pleasant silence that overtook them, "So why are you out here Faye? Did something happen to your vault?"

Realization floods her face as she remembers her goal, "Yes! How could I become so distracted? My father! Kane, please, have you seen my father?"

"No, I'm sorry Faye. I've only just arrived here myself. You are the only person I've met who hasn't tried to kill me."

The young vault citizen face visibly falls at that revelation, a tear forming in her eyes but a sudden thought seems to perk the girl up. "Then, will you help me find him! You will wont you?"

Faye grips his hands tightly in her own, a look that men throughout history were powerless to contend with. "I-But…"

"Please!"

Her large teary blue eyes pleading, her lower lip trembling, begging with every fiber of her being for him to accept. God he hated how women seemed to be able to sway his favor; he could never deny a pleading woman's request. A final defeated sigh escapes his lips before nodding in agreement.

Her squeal of happiness startled him slightly less than her sudden bone-jarring hug, the force of which he could swear dented his chest piece. Managing to pry the ecstatic vault girl from his armor, he pats her head affectionately. She was beginning to remind him too much like Veronica, which, he decided, wasn't always a good thing; Veronica's girlish tendencies conflicted with her fierce fighting style. How he hoped that the little Faye wouldn't turn out to be like Veronica, or at least…he hoped she didn't want a dress. It was tedious enough to locate one undamaged piece of clothing in the wasteland…

"Alright alright, I'll help you find your father. I had nothing better to do anyway kiddo."

A broad smile was his response as she hopped on top of the safe and jerked her index finger north, "Then we shall be off! Like in the holovids! Off we go on a glorious adventure!" Marching north, she doesn't notice the exasperated look on the former-courier's face.

"Faye. I think south is our best bet."

Halting her exaggerated march, she giggles sheepishly, but upon noticing her companion moving on without her, shaking his head in exasperation, she bolts to catch up. "Hey! Wait for me!"

Kane's grumbling can be heard as she latches on to his arm, "What the hell did I get myself into…"

Two souls now intertwined in a boundless destiny, the wasteland will forever be changed by their actions, and a thirsty wasteland will forever be in their debt.

_XXXXXXXXXX_

_Hours later._

_XXXXXXXXXX_

"Ooooh! How adorable! It's like a shaved doggy!"

"Faye! Do not touch that! It's not a doggy!"

"Owww! It tried to bite me! Bad Doggy! Bad!"

"Damnit Faye! Do not try to pet the damned Molerat!"

* * *

><p><strong>And that is chapter 2.<strong>

**Originally I had plans to completely write out each scene of the Intro but upon writing the birthing I found most of it would just be dialogue and really not worth regurgitating. If it came off to vauge, Kane's current loadout is Elite Riot Armor with the All-American, A Light Shining in Darkness, Anti-Materiel Rifle (GRA with the Custom Bolt and Carbon Fiber parts.) I was going to add the Suppressor but it seemed pointless. If he needs further stealth he can jury-rig a silencer from another weapon, it's not perfect but it'll work for a while. **

**I am concerned that I depicted Faye as too naïve, what do you think? **

**As always, Criticism are welcome. Until next time (which I hope will be sooner) with Chapter 3. **


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